Young Writers (youth project/secondary school age) in the South and East Cork areas were invited to submit their short stories to the First Cut! Film Project with a view to the winning stories being adapted for the screen at the First Cut! Summer Film Week workshop this June.
The two stories selected are:
She Was Just A Girl (Robert McCarthy)
Henry and Zooey (Kieran Doyle)
The runners-up are:
Swap (Michael Coleman)
The Intruder (Shay Buckley)
Harsh Times (Clodagh Cotter)
Formerly known as the East Cork Youth Film Project, First Cut! began in 2006. An intiative of South East Cork Area Development (SECAD) and Cork County Council Arts Office, this project is run and facilitated by Cork Film Centre (CFC). Its goal is to give young people access to training in digital filmmaking. For more information, visit the First Cut! blog.
This short story competition is the first writer-oriented project that First Cut! has initiated.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
SHE WAS JUST A GIRL (Robert McCarthy)
He didn’t understand what she was saying.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m breaking up with you” she said in a flat tone.
He raised his hand to his forehead and began rustling his hair.
She was staring at him plainly with no emotion. From Andrew’s perspective she looked as beautiful as ever, but from his face I could tell he wanted to kill her.
I sat on the adjacent table eyeing the whole situation, while sipping on my cup of black. The diner we sat in smelled of cigarettes and bread. There were roughly ten people in the restaurant, from what I could see.
I could tell she chose this location because of the public nature of the place. If he started to complain or give out, he would look like the bad person of the situation. She was just a girl after all.
“Why?” his tone began to change from impartiality to passive aggression.
“It’s just not working out, you know how it is”. She looked at her nails and then to him, in order of which she had most care for.
I raised my newspaper to hide the smile which came across my face. I found this whole thing quite hilarious.
“Why can’t you give me a straight answer, I should have known this was coming. I should have known all along. You’re all the same. Lure people in with your deceit and then strike. Snakes, all of ye, snakes.”
He was moving out from the table gradually while still speaking.
“Never trust a woman. Never. Not after tonight. Oh no, never again.”
With that he got up and began moving towards the door, still shouting as he went. “Never to be trusted, never!”
I eyed him the whole way and then adjusted my attention back to the girl at the table. There was a rye smile on her face. The kind of smile you see sneaking across the face of a comic book villain. She walked out the door and turned right.
I took off my glasses and cleaned them before folding up my paper and downing the last few drops of my bitter cup of coffee. I left a fiver on the table and got up. I walked through the door and turned left.
I woke up the following morning at exactly 11.00 a.m. Luckily, the coffee in my house wasn’t as bad as that of the diner. I bought the best, and only the best.
I turned on the television to brighten my day but the story of an over-turned train in southern Germany darkened the mood.
“… and with the body count now at 126 and still rising, this is has now become the worst public transport accident in the last 25 years…”
There is something inside all of us which finds humour in the morbid. I think it’s the fragile nature of mortality, that the life which we lead and have so many plans for can be wiped out in a second.
I finished my coffee and got dressed.
I went to my room and opened my closet.
A pale hand fell from between my pairs of immaculately preserved pants and I fell backwards with shock.
It was her.
The girl from the restaurant. The break-up girl.
But how? Why? I ran out of the room and out my front door.
I was somehow transported into the diner again. What was going on? I looked around and it was entirely empty. Not a soul in sight.
I opened my eyes.
She was staring at him plainly with no emotion. From Andrew’s perspective she looked as beautiful as ever, but from his face I could tell he wanted to kill her.
I sat on the adjacent table eyeing the whole situation, while sipping on my cup of black. The diner we sat in smelled of cigarettes and bread. There were roughly ten people in the restaurant, from what I could see.
I could tell she chose this location because of the public nature of the place. If he started to complain or give out, he would look like the bad person of the situation. She was just a girl after all.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m breaking up with you” she said in a flat tone.
He raised his hand to his forehead and began rustling his hair.
She was staring at him plainly with no emotion. From Andrew’s perspective she looked as beautiful as ever, but from his face I could tell he wanted to kill her.
I sat on the adjacent table eyeing the whole situation, while sipping on my cup of black. The diner we sat in smelled of cigarettes and bread. There were roughly ten people in the restaurant, from what I could see.
I could tell she chose this location because of the public nature of the place. If he started to complain or give out, he would look like the bad person of the situation. She was just a girl after all.
“Why?” his tone began to change from impartiality to passive aggression.
“It’s just not working out, you know how it is”. She looked at her nails and then to him, in order of which she had most care for.
I raised my newspaper to hide the smile which came across my face. I found this whole thing quite hilarious.
“Why can’t you give me a straight answer, I should have known this was coming. I should have known all along. You’re all the same. Lure people in with your deceit and then strike. Snakes, all of ye, snakes.”
He was moving out from the table gradually while still speaking.
“Never trust a woman. Never. Not after tonight. Oh no, never again.”
With that he got up and began moving towards the door, still shouting as he went. “Never to be trusted, never!”
I eyed him the whole way and then adjusted my attention back to the girl at the table. There was a rye smile on her face. The kind of smile you see sneaking across the face of a comic book villain. She walked out the door and turned right.
I took off my glasses and cleaned them before folding up my paper and downing the last few drops of my bitter cup of coffee. I left a fiver on the table and got up. I walked through the door and turned left.
I woke up the following morning at exactly 11.00 a.m. Luckily, the coffee in my house wasn’t as bad as that of the diner. I bought the best, and only the best.
I turned on the television to brighten my day but the story of an over-turned train in southern Germany darkened the mood.
“… and with the body count now at 126 and still rising, this is has now become the worst public transport accident in the last 25 years…”
There is something inside all of us which finds humour in the morbid. I think it’s the fragile nature of mortality, that the life which we lead and have so many plans for can be wiped out in a second.
I finished my coffee and got dressed.
I went to my room and opened my closet.
A pale hand fell from between my pairs of immaculately preserved pants and I fell backwards with shock.
It was her.
The girl from the restaurant. The break-up girl.
But how? Why? I ran out of the room and out my front door.
I was somehow transported into the diner again. What was going on? I looked around and it was entirely empty. Not a soul in sight.
I opened my eyes.
She was staring at him plainly with no emotion. From Andrew’s perspective she looked as beautiful as ever, but from his face I could tell he wanted to kill her.
I sat on the adjacent table eyeing the whole situation, while sipping on my cup of black. The diner we sat in smelled of cigarettes and bread. There were roughly ten people in the restaurant, from what I could see.
I could tell she chose this location because of the public nature of the place. If he started to complain or give out, he would look like the bad person of the situation. She was just a girl after all.
HENRY AND ZOOEY (Kieran Doyle)
Henry bit into the apple. Without removing a piece to chew upon he removed his teeth and held the fruit at a distance, watching the mixture of juice and his own saliva running along the apples smooth curved surface.
Observing this, Henry was reminded of his friend Zooey. The last time he had seen her, her own saliva was mixed with something too. She was fourteen then. Henry was three months shy of it and it was a dull day. The kind of day when you know it won’t rain but that it won’t be sunny either.
She had been wearing an odd mixture of clothes that day, not knowing whether it was hot or warm or both she had opted for a combination of a light sweatshirt and basketball shorts. The heave duty steel-capped army issue boots she wore that day were a permanent fixture on her feet and weren’t chosen out of any consideration for the weather, it just happened that she liked them. The boots were cumbersome and oversized and they proved to be a disadvantage when running away from citizens who were overly concerned with whatever mischief the both of them were getting into at any given moment. Zooey always said that they added to the excitement of the chase. Henry couldn’t agree more.
They had both decided that it was a good idea to wreak some havoc in the local community; under the almost-darkness of the overcast sky they would be almost invisible. It was decided between them that they would alter road signs for comedic effect, something which they had been planning to do for quite some time. They raided their own houses for supplies. Henry found a hammer and a nail gun. He brought an apple with him too, grey days always made him hungry. Zooey trumped these finds with a can of luminous pink spray paint. Henry suspected that she had set aside the paint for exactly this but he didn’t say it to her, he had too much respect for her.
It was hard work, coming up with clever ways with which to alter the signs along the only stretch of road that ran through their town. Henry managed to turn a ‘Form One Lane’ sign into ‘Form One Planet’ which he was very happy with. Zooey, feeling a strong feminist buzz changed ‘Men At Work’ to ‘Women At Work’. After a joint effort of changing ‘Disc Zone’ into ‘Disco Zone’ the two took a break, sitting on a wall by the side of the road.
Henry took out his apple and held it, contemplating its existence against his own. ‘This apple’ he thought ‘will be eaten by me and when I die I will be eaten by worms…worms live in apples’. He had no idea where he was going with this thought but knowing that he was undisputedly linked with and just as finite as the apple reassured him that eating it wouldn’t be a bad thing to do.
Zooey, who had staring at the road while Henry contemplated the meaning of existence, jumped suddenly to her feet and said ‘I’ve got it, I’m going to put ‘’eating animals’’ below that stop sign on the road’. Henry smiled,’ I saw you eating lamb last Tuesday, you’re not a vegetarian’. Zooey, with faux offence said ‘I’ve always been a vegetarian…that was tofu lamb. Anyway it doesn’t matter, keep an eye on the road while a go and create my masterpiece’. Henry had decided that he would eat the apple immediately, ‘Will do, have fun’ he said.
Zooey walked out onto the road, can of paint in hand and feeling good about the message she was about to send the world. Sh reached her destination and steadied herself with her free arm. She took aim with the can. She started, moving slowly and deliberately, this would have to be perfect if anyone was to take is seriously.
Henry was looking at his apple again. He was finding it hard to recapture the thoughts he had had moments ago so he gave up. Putting the apple up to his mouth he bit into it. Immediately, the sweet juice flowed into his mouth, setting his taste buds into overdrive, creating an instant party in his mouth. He knew that this would be a good apple. Extracting the chunk with his teeth and biting into it he felt that sharp burst of pleasure that he felt with every good apple. He closed his eyes to focus more on the crunch, he bit again and the pleasure spread throughout his nervous system. Henry was quite sure that this was the best apple he had ever had. He needed to tell Zooey.
He opened his eyes. He couldn’t see her. There was a car on the road. It wasn’t moving. Zooey was meant to be where the car was. Instead there was a car. Henry couldn’t understand. Where the hell is Zooey? He walked over to the car, hoping to ask the driver. The driver didn’t look friendly, the driver’s eyes were open and they were staring straight ahead at nothing. Henry noticed that blood was beginning to come out from under the car. He dropped to his knees and looked under it.
He had found Zooey. Her entire body was under the car, condensed into a senseless combination of blood and bone. Her face was visible. Henry stared at it, only one of her eyes was open, the other one had been smashed, much like the rest of her face, off the ground by the force of the car. The functioning eye anchored itself of the sight of Henry. Henry didn’t know what to do, he noticed that one of Zooey’s arms was free, he grabbed her hand and stared into her eyes. She stared back and tried to speak. Instead of words a there was harsh gurgle followed by a mixture of saliva and blood. She tried again and this time managed to say something. Henry would probably have heard it if he was any closer to her. Henry didn’t know what else to do; he noticed the bitten apple in his hand and offered it to his friend. She smiled, a steady stream of tears began to flow from her functioning eye. Henry dropped the apple, letting its juice, his saliva, her blood and her saliva mix on the tarmac. He didn’t know what else to do so he stared at her and held her hand. He held her hand after it had gone limp, he had held her hand after it had gone cold; he continued to stare at her. He didn’t know what else to do.
And so, eleven years after, Henry took a bite out of another apple and watched as the mixture of juice and his own saliva rolled towards the southern pole of the fruit.
When it had gained enough mass the droplet fell to the floor and with it Henry’s first tear for Zooey.
Grief overcame him and he broke down in tears.
Because he didn’t know what else to do.
Observing this, Henry was reminded of his friend Zooey. The last time he had seen her, her own saliva was mixed with something too. She was fourteen then. Henry was three months shy of it and it was a dull day. The kind of day when you know it won’t rain but that it won’t be sunny either.
She had been wearing an odd mixture of clothes that day, not knowing whether it was hot or warm or both she had opted for a combination of a light sweatshirt and basketball shorts. The heave duty steel-capped army issue boots she wore that day were a permanent fixture on her feet and weren’t chosen out of any consideration for the weather, it just happened that she liked them. The boots were cumbersome and oversized and they proved to be a disadvantage when running away from citizens who were overly concerned with whatever mischief the both of them were getting into at any given moment. Zooey always said that they added to the excitement of the chase. Henry couldn’t agree more.
They had both decided that it was a good idea to wreak some havoc in the local community; under the almost-darkness of the overcast sky they would be almost invisible. It was decided between them that they would alter road signs for comedic effect, something which they had been planning to do for quite some time. They raided their own houses for supplies. Henry found a hammer and a nail gun. He brought an apple with him too, grey days always made him hungry. Zooey trumped these finds with a can of luminous pink spray paint. Henry suspected that she had set aside the paint for exactly this but he didn’t say it to her, he had too much respect for her.
It was hard work, coming up with clever ways with which to alter the signs along the only stretch of road that ran through their town. Henry managed to turn a ‘Form One Lane’ sign into ‘Form One Planet’ which he was very happy with. Zooey, feeling a strong feminist buzz changed ‘Men At Work’ to ‘Women At Work’. After a joint effort of changing ‘Disc Zone’ into ‘Disco Zone’ the two took a break, sitting on a wall by the side of the road.
Henry took out his apple and held it, contemplating its existence against his own. ‘This apple’ he thought ‘will be eaten by me and when I die I will be eaten by worms…worms live in apples’. He had no idea where he was going with this thought but knowing that he was undisputedly linked with and just as finite as the apple reassured him that eating it wouldn’t be a bad thing to do.
Zooey, who had staring at the road while Henry contemplated the meaning of existence, jumped suddenly to her feet and said ‘I’ve got it, I’m going to put ‘’eating animals’’ below that stop sign on the road’. Henry smiled,’ I saw you eating lamb last Tuesday, you’re not a vegetarian’. Zooey, with faux offence said ‘I’ve always been a vegetarian…that was tofu lamb. Anyway it doesn’t matter, keep an eye on the road while a go and create my masterpiece’. Henry had decided that he would eat the apple immediately, ‘Will do, have fun’ he said.
Zooey walked out onto the road, can of paint in hand and feeling good about the message she was about to send the world. Sh reached her destination and steadied herself with her free arm. She took aim with the can. She started, moving slowly and deliberately, this would have to be perfect if anyone was to take is seriously.
Henry was looking at his apple again. He was finding it hard to recapture the thoughts he had had moments ago so he gave up. Putting the apple up to his mouth he bit into it. Immediately, the sweet juice flowed into his mouth, setting his taste buds into overdrive, creating an instant party in his mouth. He knew that this would be a good apple. Extracting the chunk with his teeth and biting into it he felt that sharp burst of pleasure that he felt with every good apple. He closed his eyes to focus more on the crunch, he bit again and the pleasure spread throughout his nervous system. Henry was quite sure that this was the best apple he had ever had. He needed to tell Zooey.
He opened his eyes. He couldn’t see her. There was a car on the road. It wasn’t moving. Zooey was meant to be where the car was. Instead there was a car. Henry couldn’t understand. Where the hell is Zooey? He walked over to the car, hoping to ask the driver. The driver didn’t look friendly, the driver’s eyes were open and they were staring straight ahead at nothing. Henry noticed that blood was beginning to come out from under the car. He dropped to his knees and looked under it.
He had found Zooey. Her entire body was under the car, condensed into a senseless combination of blood and bone. Her face was visible. Henry stared at it, only one of her eyes was open, the other one had been smashed, much like the rest of her face, off the ground by the force of the car. The functioning eye anchored itself of the sight of Henry. Henry didn’t know what to do, he noticed that one of Zooey’s arms was free, he grabbed her hand and stared into her eyes. She stared back and tried to speak. Instead of words a there was harsh gurgle followed by a mixture of saliva and blood. She tried again and this time managed to say something. Henry would probably have heard it if he was any closer to her. Henry didn’t know what else to do; he noticed the bitten apple in his hand and offered it to his friend. She smiled, a steady stream of tears began to flow from her functioning eye. Henry dropped the apple, letting its juice, his saliva, her blood and her saliva mix on the tarmac. He didn’t know what else to do so he stared at her and held her hand. He held her hand after it had gone limp, he had held her hand after it had gone cold; he continued to stare at her. He didn’t know what else to do.
And so, eleven years after, Henry took a bite out of another apple and watched as the mixture of juice and his own saliva rolled towards the southern pole of the fruit.
When it had gained enough mass the droplet fell to the floor and with it Henry’s first tear for Zooey.
Grief overcame him and he broke down in tears.
Because he didn’t know what else to do.
SWAP (Michael Coleman)
Chifundo awoke in the softest covering her skin had ever been wrapped in. It smelled fresh and she was so warm, she didn’t want to leave the comfort. A gentle breeze pushed the curtains inwards before swallowing them back. Chifundo did not have to swipe the flies from her eyes this morning or scratch her chocolate skin from any itchy bites. This was the second day of her trip to Ireland and she was in heaven. It was simply unimaginable. She put on some new clothes, brushed her hair and smiled at herself in the extravagant, bedroom mirror. The room surrounded her like a television screen, it was so surreal she thought it was a dream.
Maura swung her arms vivaciously as regiments of flies awoke her. No alarm clock had ever awoken her as quickly. She moaned and jumped from the dusty floor shaking the mean blanket around the air. A sole tear rolled down her gritty face as she longed for her own bed and some make-up. The sun stung her eyes, beaming into the muddy built shack and Maura was quickly realising, that she didn’t have enough sun spray to last her another day. The bedroom, kitchen and dining room, if you could class them such, were all the one room. Rarely did they have much to cook in the kitchen and the dining set resembled glued twigs. Maura stared out from the thatched roof home as the locals slowly awoke. What did they have to get up to, she wondered. Torture are their lives, between disease and flies and malnutrition. An hour crawled past until the rest of the family were awake, complaining of groaning stomach although the stomachs did most of the groaning. Maura felt sorry for the four children and parents. Two of the children had AIDS and all had red, sore eyes. Maura wondered why she had agreed to come here.
Chifundo sat at the table and drank her orange juice slowly, savouring every drop. She took her spoon awkwardly and dunked it into her cornflakes, eating with relish. Toast and raspberry jam followed and the utter sweetness made her stomach jump with delight. She had never tasted food as exquisite as her two days in this house. She was still in awe at the whole thing, they had three bathrooms, each a room of their own, a sitting and a dining room, a kitchen and other rooms she had yet to see. It was a castle. The man of the house explained to her that morning why she was here and she tried to understand but found it confusing.
“Well Chifundo, may daughter is very materialistic and I wanted to show her that she doesn‘t need money to be that happy. Small amounts will do, so that is why I organised for you to come here so you could get your medical treatment and to give my daughter a wakeup call, and maybe she’ll return less demanding.”
Maura swung her arms vivaciously as regiments of flies awoke her. No alarm clock had ever awoken her as quickly. She moaned and jumped from the dusty floor shaking the mean blanket around the air. A sole tear rolled down her gritty face as she longed for her own bed and some make-up. The sun stung her eyes, beaming into the muddy built shack and Maura was quickly realising, that she didn’t have enough sun spray to last her another day. The bedroom, kitchen and dining room, if you could class them such, were all the one room. Rarely did they have much to cook in the kitchen and the dining set resembled glued twigs. Maura stared out from the thatched roof home as the locals slowly awoke. What did they have to get up to, she wondered. Torture are their lives, between disease and flies and malnutrition. An hour crawled past until the rest of the family were awake, complaining of groaning stomach although the stomachs did most of the groaning. Maura felt sorry for the four children and parents. Two of the children had AIDS and all had red, sore eyes. Maura wondered why she had agreed to come here.
Chifundo sat at the table and drank her orange juice slowly, savouring every drop. She took her spoon awkwardly and dunked it into her cornflakes, eating with relish. Toast and raspberry jam followed and the utter sweetness made her stomach jump with delight. She had never tasted food as exquisite as her two days in this house. She was still in awe at the whole thing, they had three bathrooms, each a room of their own, a sitting and a dining room, a kitchen and other rooms she had yet to see. It was a castle. The man of the house explained to her that morning why she was here and she tried to understand but found it confusing.
“Well Chifundo, may daughter is very materialistic and I wanted to show her that she doesn‘t need money to be that happy. Small amounts will do, so that is why I organised for you to come here so you could get your medical treatment and to give my daughter a wakeup call, and maybe she’ll return less demanding.”
THE INTRUDER (Shay Buckley)
The howling dog woke me up. Just as well it did! It was howling for some reason known only to the dog. I lay in bed wondering why the dog was howling like this when it stopped suddenly and abruptly. The night became quiet again and try as I could I couldn’t get back to sleep. Stupid dog. I pulled myself out of bed and shivered because of the sudden change in temperature. I groaned as I looked at the clock next to me. 03:46. “Stupid, stupid dog" I said to myself. I was thinking of ways to sneak over to the dog and make sure he would never howl again when I heard it. A creak. Now normally I wouldn’t have taken much notice of a creak. In a house this old a fly could probably make a creak if he landed on the right floorboard. The creak stood out because of the silence of the cold night.
I slowly walked across to my door. Pulling it open as little as I could, I tip-toed over to the old wooden banister. Looking down I squinted through the darkness straining to see where the noise had come from. Nothing. Well, at first I could see nothing but after about two minutes I spotted the living room door open slowly. I leaned back making myself as inconspicuous as possible feeling my breathing quicken. A balaclava-clad man stepped out of the room and looked around. Seeing no one he seemed to relax outwardly and started towards the stairs. I scurried backwards willing my breathing to quieten and looked around frantically. My eyes darted back and forth desperately searching for something. Anything. I could use to ….. Well I wasn’t sure what I was going to do yet but anything to stop the man reaching the top of the stairs and spotting me crouching in my pyjamas outside my door.
There. A box full of old forgotten books. I reached towards it and prayed that the intruder wasn’t about to hear me. Lifting it up I looked over the banister again noting his position. About halfway up the stairs. I would only get one shot at this. Three, two, one. “AHHHHH” I screamed hoarsely and chucked the box up and over the banister with all my might. It connected with a sickening thud on the man's back. He was knocked forwards immediately and fell on the steps banging his head on the wooden step. I ran trembling back into my room and grabbed my phone, sure that the man would jump up as I heard him groan. Calling 999, I quickly told the operator about my ordeal which calmed me down. The reassuring operator told me that there was a nearby police car on patrol which would arrive soon. The car arrived and arrested the intruder who was still dazed and mumbling incoherently, signalling the end of my nightmare. I smiled to myself as I thought of something. “Smart, smart dog”
I slowly walked across to my door. Pulling it open as little as I could, I tip-toed over to the old wooden banister. Looking down I squinted through the darkness straining to see where the noise had come from. Nothing. Well, at first I could see nothing but after about two minutes I spotted the living room door open slowly. I leaned back making myself as inconspicuous as possible feeling my breathing quicken. A balaclava-clad man stepped out of the room and looked around. Seeing no one he seemed to relax outwardly and started towards the stairs. I scurried backwards willing my breathing to quieten and looked around frantically. My eyes darted back and forth desperately searching for something. Anything. I could use to ….. Well I wasn’t sure what I was going to do yet but anything to stop the man reaching the top of the stairs and spotting me crouching in my pyjamas outside my door.
There. A box full of old forgotten books. I reached towards it and prayed that the intruder wasn’t about to hear me. Lifting it up I looked over the banister again noting his position. About halfway up the stairs. I would only get one shot at this. Three, two, one. “AHHHHH” I screamed hoarsely and chucked the box up and over the banister with all my might. It connected with a sickening thud on the man's back. He was knocked forwards immediately and fell on the steps banging his head on the wooden step. I ran trembling back into my room and grabbed my phone, sure that the man would jump up as I heard him groan. Calling 999, I quickly told the operator about my ordeal which calmed me down. The reassuring operator told me that there was a nearby police car on patrol which would arrive soon. The car arrived and arrested the intruder who was still dazed and mumbling incoherently, signalling the end of my nightmare. I smiled to myself as I thought of something. “Smart, smart dog”
HARSH TIMES (Clodagh Cotter)
Smoke swirled around the small cramped kitchen. People filled the room from corner to corner. Some even stood outside in the rain. The village doctor stepped silently out of my mother and father’s bedroom. He shook his head and went to shake my mother’s hand. He then left the room. My mother fell to her knees and tears ran down her face. Then next thing I knew I was watching my father being put into the ground. I was eight at the time and the oldest.
From then on I helped my mother care for my younger brothers and sisters. There were seven of us and the youngest was four months old, and now was like history was repeating itself. The children were herded into the bedroom it was small with two single beds a bag stuffed with hay (which I slept on) and an old wooden cot. All seven of us slept here. An hour later Mrs O’ Shea a neighbour called me out. I closed the door behind me so the little ones couldn’t hear. Mrs O’ Shea looked at me, her pale face had deep grooves from age, her eyes began to fill with tears. I knew what she had to say but she said it anyway. “Your mother’s dead” she held my hand and squeezed it tightly.
She brought me to my mother. I opened the door slowly. She lay still on the bed. At the bedside there were wild flowers. She looked pale but at peace. I felt her hand it was icy cold. After that they took her away. I made my way back to my brothers and sisters. They sat in the room looking so confused. I explained how “mummy had gone to live with daddy and Holy God for a little while and that if we do as God asks we will see her again some day”. Mrs O’ Shea stayed with me for most of the night and even offered to stay the whole night but I suggested that she go home. That night was the first night I was on my own, alone, without my mother to comfort me. I sat on the grass outside my house. Strangely when it rained I didn’t mind. It was as if the sky could feel my pain.
I watch the rain chase the leaves down the dirt path. It was then that I realised I was the new mother, I was responsible for the safety of my brothers and sisters at the age of only thirteen. I watched my mother and helped her raise the household but I was on my own now. The first couple of months were hard. But over time I got used to it. I got up early every morning and made the kids their breakfast, bathed them and played with them. Whenever I had free time on my hands I would have to sell what little vegetables we had to spare in order to make money. The little ones grew to get used to it too. Things were finally looking up.
Then one day things began to change again. The sun was high in the sky. I was working in the garden when Connor came running up the garden path his chestnut hair blowing in the breeze as he ran. He dropped his kite and stumbled before he finally reached me. He spoke too quickly for me to hear him. “Slow down” I said stopping what I was doing. He caught his breath and started again. We had very little money and struggled most days to survive.
“Its Niamh” he puffed. I stood up dusting the earth from my tattered dress. Connor grabbed me by the hand and led me to the end of the road. Where I saw the four of my brothers standing around my sister Niamh. They moved out of the way as I approached them. Niamh was lying on the ground. Her face looked so fragile and breakable. She looked paler than usual her pale blue eyes stared at me, pleading with me to help her. I lifted her up to get her inside, she as light as a feather and as thin as paper.
We made as far as the end of our house. Niamh grabbed my arm. I could barely feel it. Knelt on the ground, I stared into her eyes. I could see the light getting dimmer and dimmer until finally the light was gone completely. I said nothing to my brothers. I held her in my arms I could feel the bones in her little arms as the blood began to stop flowing, her body felt colder and colder. Another family member in the ground. I felt I was failing everyone. I tried to keep everyone together but obviously I couldn’t do that. Not by myself but with Teagann only a baby. She needed full time care as well as the boys. Where would I get the money to feed my family?
Even worse my only source of support was gone as well. Mrs O’ Shea had left for England a week earlier. I felt helpless. I thought and thought over a number of months what I could do to help. Finally one day I made a heart breaking decision. A married couple who lived not far away from my house were emigrating to America to find work and escape starvation from lack of food. On the Saturday I met the couple and handed over Teagann (1yr), Tadgh (7yrs), and Sean (8yrs) Michael (9yrs) and Steven (10yrs). It broke my heart. I could feel the tears building in my eyes as my little family cried when they walked away, but no I wouldn’t cry, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I had to be strong for them.
Of course none of them wanted to leave but it was for the best as they would have a change to survive now. Colin, the oldest of the boys was now thirteen stayed with me as he was old enough to help out with the vegetable patch and help Mr O’ Sullivan, an old farmer who lived nearby. Anything to get money. I even resorted to robbing bread from the local market and maybe one or two potatoes, three if no one was watching the stall. One night I was walking home when a tall muscular man approached and asked if I wanted to make a few shillings. Of course I would do almost anything to feed myself and Colin. Except what he wanted me to do. I was eighteen, not married and still a virgin.
I stood my ground and said no but he had other ideas. After the attack I felt dirty and unwanted. I hauled myself out of the alley and salt tears ran down my cheek and I couldn’t stop them falling. It was like a dam had burst and the water couldn’t be stopped until it ran its course. From the dark a hand was offered to me I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t care. I was pulled up to face a tall man with dark hair. His eyes were mesmerizing, a piercing green. He was very handsome and he wanted to help me, but I couldn’t feel excited. I had gone numb from everything that had happened. I could hear a voice mumbling in the background.
“Are you ok miss” he asked. I just nodded “where do you live? I’ll take you over there. Are you sure you're alright?”
By the time I had pulled myself together it was morning. The man had told me his name. It was Liam and he had moved from the south to our little dying village. He stayed with Colin and me for awhile and he offered to earn his keep by helping Colin and me in any way he could. In time I grew to trust him and I finally told him about my family and why I had to send them away, and what happened the night we had met. He played with Colin and helped with the garden and often told me to relax. After Liam arrived the numbness started to disappear and something new took its place, something which I had never felt before. I tried to ignore it. It never went away. It wasn’t long before I realised he felt the same.
A month later while working in the garden Liam again told me to relax and go for a walk with him. I looked at Colin and he nodded and smiled slyly which I thought was odd. Liam and I went for a walk up the hills where you could see the village. We were surrounded by trees that seemed to stretch for miles. I sat in a sea of blue bells. It was there that Liam asked me to marry him. I smiled and said yes. That night I poked out my mothers wedding dress. It was beautiful snow white after all these years and was a perfect fit. Liam had planned to go to England to live. He wanted his future wife and brother-in-law to go with him. At first I wasn’t sure but at least we would have a better life there. I don’t care where I go just as long as Colin and Liam are happy. And, who knows?, hopefully there will be no more harsh times.
From then on I helped my mother care for my younger brothers and sisters. There were seven of us and the youngest was four months old, and now was like history was repeating itself. The children were herded into the bedroom it was small with two single beds a bag stuffed with hay (which I slept on) and an old wooden cot. All seven of us slept here. An hour later Mrs O’ Shea a neighbour called me out. I closed the door behind me so the little ones couldn’t hear. Mrs O’ Shea looked at me, her pale face had deep grooves from age, her eyes began to fill with tears. I knew what she had to say but she said it anyway. “Your mother’s dead” she held my hand and squeezed it tightly.
She brought me to my mother. I opened the door slowly. She lay still on the bed. At the bedside there were wild flowers. She looked pale but at peace. I felt her hand it was icy cold. After that they took her away. I made my way back to my brothers and sisters. They sat in the room looking so confused. I explained how “mummy had gone to live with daddy and Holy God for a little while and that if we do as God asks we will see her again some day”. Mrs O’ Shea stayed with me for most of the night and even offered to stay the whole night but I suggested that she go home. That night was the first night I was on my own, alone, without my mother to comfort me. I sat on the grass outside my house. Strangely when it rained I didn’t mind. It was as if the sky could feel my pain.
I watch the rain chase the leaves down the dirt path. It was then that I realised I was the new mother, I was responsible for the safety of my brothers and sisters at the age of only thirteen. I watched my mother and helped her raise the household but I was on my own now. The first couple of months were hard. But over time I got used to it. I got up early every morning and made the kids their breakfast, bathed them and played with them. Whenever I had free time on my hands I would have to sell what little vegetables we had to spare in order to make money. The little ones grew to get used to it too. Things were finally looking up.
Then one day things began to change again. The sun was high in the sky. I was working in the garden when Connor came running up the garden path his chestnut hair blowing in the breeze as he ran. He dropped his kite and stumbled before he finally reached me. He spoke too quickly for me to hear him. “Slow down” I said stopping what I was doing. He caught his breath and started again. We had very little money and struggled most days to survive.
“Its Niamh” he puffed. I stood up dusting the earth from my tattered dress. Connor grabbed me by the hand and led me to the end of the road. Where I saw the four of my brothers standing around my sister Niamh. They moved out of the way as I approached them. Niamh was lying on the ground. Her face looked so fragile and breakable. She looked paler than usual her pale blue eyes stared at me, pleading with me to help her. I lifted her up to get her inside, she as light as a feather and as thin as paper.
We made as far as the end of our house. Niamh grabbed my arm. I could barely feel it. Knelt on the ground, I stared into her eyes. I could see the light getting dimmer and dimmer until finally the light was gone completely. I said nothing to my brothers. I held her in my arms I could feel the bones in her little arms as the blood began to stop flowing, her body felt colder and colder. Another family member in the ground. I felt I was failing everyone. I tried to keep everyone together but obviously I couldn’t do that. Not by myself but with Teagann only a baby. She needed full time care as well as the boys. Where would I get the money to feed my family?
Even worse my only source of support was gone as well. Mrs O’ Shea had left for England a week earlier. I felt helpless. I thought and thought over a number of months what I could do to help. Finally one day I made a heart breaking decision. A married couple who lived not far away from my house were emigrating to America to find work and escape starvation from lack of food. On the Saturday I met the couple and handed over Teagann (1yr), Tadgh (7yrs), and Sean (8yrs) Michael (9yrs) and Steven (10yrs). It broke my heart. I could feel the tears building in my eyes as my little family cried when they walked away, but no I wouldn’t cry, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I had to be strong for them.
Of course none of them wanted to leave but it was for the best as they would have a change to survive now. Colin, the oldest of the boys was now thirteen stayed with me as he was old enough to help out with the vegetable patch and help Mr O’ Sullivan, an old farmer who lived nearby. Anything to get money. I even resorted to robbing bread from the local market and maybe one or two potatoes, three if no one was watching the stall. One night I was walking home when a tall muscular man approached and asked if I wanted to make a few shillings. Of course I would do almost anything to feed myself and Colin. Except what he wanted me to do. I was eighteen, not married and still a virgin.
I stood my ground and said no but he had other ideas. After the attack I felt dirty and unwanted. I hauled myself out of the alley and salt tears ran down my cheek and I couldn’t stop them falling. It was like a dam had burst and the water couldn’t be stopped until it ran its course. From the dark a hand was offered to me I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t care. I was pulled up to face a tall man with dark hair. His eyes were mesmerizing, a piercing green. He was very handsome and he wanted to help me, but I couldn’t feel excited. I had gone numb from everything that had happened. I could hear a voice mumbling in the background.
“Are you ok miss” he asked. I just nodded “where do you live? I’ll take you over there. Are you sure you're alright?”
By the time I had pulled myself together it was morning. The man had told me his name. It was Liam and he had moved from the south to our little dying village. He stayed with Colin and me for awhile and he offered to earn his keep by helping Colin and me in any way he could. In time I grew to trust him and I finally told him about my family and why I had to send them away, and what happened the night we had met. He played with Colin and helped with the garden and often told me to relax. After Liam arrived the numbness started to disappear and something new took its place, something which I had never felt before. I tried to ignore it. It never went away. It wasn’t long before I realised he felt the same.
A month later while working in the garden Liam again told me to relax and go for a walk with him. I looked at Colin and he nodded and smiled slyly which I thought was odd. Liam and I went for a walk up the hills where you could see the village. We were surrounded by trees that seemed to stretch for miles. I sat in a sea of blue bells. It was there that Liam asked me to marry him. I smiled and said yes. That night I poked out my mothers wedding dress. It was beautiful snow white after all these years and was a perfect fit. Liam had planned to go to England to live. He wanted his future wife and brother-in-law to go with him. At first I wasn’t sure but at least we would have a better life there. I don’t care where I go just as long as Colin and Liam are happy. And, who knows?, hopefully there will be no more harsh times.
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